18 weeks today. Hooooo doggies. I can't believe we're almost halfway there.

*panic*

Until we figure out a better method of getting these belly pictures - i.e., NOT me standing in front of the bathroom mirror taking blurry selfies and then frigging with Photoshop to adjust them afterwards - this will have to do. I think you get the point. I've got what appears to be a well developed beer gut.



I don't want to say too much for fear of jinxing myself but so far, this has not been that bad. I'm still feeling good, still going to the gym, still not craving turkey legs slathered in chocolate frosting...I consider myself very lucky. It's a wild night if I'm awake after 9:00 pm.

But the feelings.

Ohhhh, the feelings.

I shit you guys not. I have cried more in the past four months than probably in the past five years combined, and over the stupidest things. I have cried over everything from a Google commercial to a full garbage can with no buildup or prior warning...just BAM! TEARS!

Here's a classic example. Last night, Peter and I were getting ready to go to the gym. I started sooking about being fat. I tried on all my jeans (which obviously no longer fasten, hence me wearing leggings and dresses every single day for the past month) and couldn't get any of them buttoned up. So of course, this escalated into tears.

After a few minutes, I stopped being foolish, got my act together, and drove us to the gym. But on the way there I could feel it welling up and I knew I wasn't done yet. Hoo no, lots more emotions where that came from!

I pulled into the gym parking lot and there was some hillbilly in a truck parked where he wasn't supposed to. Kinda, sorta, but yet not at all blocking my route through the parking lot. "Move move move move MOVE WHY WON'T YOU MOVE?!" I screamed at him. Then of course I burst into full on sobs. I pulled into a parking space and bawled for about five minutes. I can't tell you why...I know I'm a complete psycho. We switched seats and Peter drove us home. I blatted the whole way there. I stomped into the house and refused to eat any supper and finally agreed to a bowl of cereal after my little outburst was over. And then we watched TV and I was laughing and fine.

I don't know why I'm painting this insane picture of myself for the internet to read and judge, other than to confirm that everything you hear about pregnancy hormones is true. They're real and they're terrifying.

My best moment all week was Wednesday morning, when I'm pretty sure, almost positive, I felt the baby move for the first time. So even despite the expanding waistline and crying jags and remaining completely sober for the longest consecutive time since I was probably 15, it's also true that the wonderful moments far outweigh the bad.